Can't Fight Time Ch. 15

Raising her eyes, Nina met her father's gaze. His eyes were slightly unfocused and dilated. Nina wasn't surprised that he was on drugs; if anything, it made the entire situation more believable.

Her eyes roamed his face, trying to find any resemblance of the man who had raised her, loved her, and loved her mom. She couldn't find it. All she saw when she looked at him was a bloody shirt, and a... Nina flinched back and jerked up from the bench.

"What?" her father asked, his eyes shifting from side to side, "What's wrong?"

Everything!Her mind screamed at her, as she tried to calm her raging heart. It took a few tries, but she was able to force out the answer. "There's a spot of b-blood right above your eye."

The need to vomit rode her hard, and Nina covered her mouth as her stomach heaved. But by some mercy she kept her composure, kept her food down, and kept the tears from streaming down her face.

As if in slow motion, her father reached up and wiped his brow, his fingers coming away stained red. The color was brilliant, even in the moonlight, an indisputable crimson that no one would refute was blood.

For a tense second, her father stared at his bloodstained fingers, and then, very casually, he wiped his fingers on his coat. The motion stretched his coat and revealed a bloodsplattered shirt underneath. "Thought I had cleaned all of that up; sorry about that." He said it as if he'd spilled spaghetti sauce and not human blood.

Nina took an involuntary step back and cursed herself. She remembered a time when she'd thought Grim was going to kill her, and she'd gotten in his face and lied her ass off. Where was that woman when she needed her, the one who told off a big, bad Grim Reaper without batting an eyelash?

"Nina, you don't have to be scared. I would never hurt you," her father said, with such compassion and sincerity that she almost believed him; almost.

Nina dug her nails into her palm to keep her composure from breaking. The pain kept her strong, kept her sane. "Whose blood is that?"

"Ah." Her father blew out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his damp hair. Nina followed the movement like a hawk and nearly screamed bloody murder when his hand came away red.

Nina's eyes zoomed in on his hair and saw that some pieces were drying, like there was product in his hair.Or human blood,her internal voice corrected her. But the usual sarcasm and sass wasn't there.

"Things happen, Nina. I didn't kill her at first." He shook his finger, like he was a teacher teaching her a lesson. "I knew she was your friend, and I spared her for you. But then you didn't come back. I thought she knew where you were, but after a while I knew she didn't."

Nina's voice was just above a whisper, her throat constricted with emotion. "You're talking about Nicole."

"I really didn't mean to kill her. You have to believe me!" her father pleaded emphatically, waving his hands wildly, revealing more glimpses of the bloodstained shirt underneath. It was only then that Nina realized he was completely covered in blood, from his black shoes to the white collar of his shirt. The darkness could only hide the man's transgressions to a point, but the moon clearly illuminated all of them.

"You are not my father." Nina's voice shook with fury, shook with sadness and a soul-deep pain. "You are not my family. You are nothing but a murderer."

Seamlessly and unsurprisingly, her father's face contorted into a mask of blind fury. "I have done nothing but love you! And this is how you repay me?" he screamed, face a bright red. "You ungrateful little bitch! You can't look down on me!"

"Down on you?" She laughed. "I'm not looking down on you, I'm looking past you."

His coat flew open and a glint of silver was her only warning before her father brandished a largekalapuukko."You are mine!" he ranted, waving the knife wildly around. "Mine!"

Nina stared at the bloodsplattered shirt, her friend's blood. Nicole had been innocent, she hadn't done anything. No, she'd just been a casualty in her father's effort to have her. That had always been his goal, and all the women he'd killed along the way had just been casualties.

This was her life, narrowed down to the sharp point of a knife. This was her death, the end.

In the distance, Nina could hear the faint sounds of sirens, and she knew that it was time. In a matter of seconds, she would be dead. A sick smile twisted her lips as she shifted her weight and repositioned her feet.

"I was never yours," Nina whispered more to herself than him. "I was, and will always be, my own person."

Her father cackled loudly, and Nina heard the sirens getting closer. Watching the knife she waited for her chance. And then, she saw it.

"No, Nina! You. Are. M-ine," her father yelped as Nina lunged for him and drove the knife into her own heart.

Clenching her teeth, Nina forced her body to move and drive the knife deeper. Blood spurted around the wound and ran down the knife to the hilt, dropping off her father's clenched fist. Panting she reached up weakly, placed her hand over her father's. "No... my life... is my... own."

The irony of the moment wasn't lost on Nina. For the last three months she'd been sure—dead sure—that her father would kill her. No one had corrected her, and the thought of taking her own life hadn't even crossed her mind.

If she could have laughed, she would have.

But in those last few moments of life Nina found a realization: she finally realized why her mother had been smiling. Death was an escape from all the pain and torment her father had caused. It was also the ultimate "fuck you!"

Forcing her lids open, Nina looked at her father's wide, astonished eyes and his open mouth. Smiling through the pain, Nina robbed her father of the only thing he'd ever wanted, and the one thing he could never have, her life.